


if you wanna relationship (here’s how you get one)

by spacecleavage



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ugly Truth fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9595136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/pseuds/spacecleavage
Summary: Bellamy Blake hated Clarke Griffin from first sight, the harsh way she spoke on her stupid show and that stupid accent. Bellamy Blake hated his boss even more, after all he made him work with her.(otherwise known as the Ugly Truth fusion)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hope you guys enjoy this, it was fun to write :D
> 
> and thank you to everyone who helped me with this fic

Bellamy took a big gulp of air as he tried to contain his frustration at the situation… he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Part of him still thought it was a horrible joke that someone was going to burst into the room and tell him that it was an elaborate prank. But he wasn’t that lucky…

He winced when Clarke’s new theme music started playing, and he could see Kane almost bouncing with excitement.

Bellamy clicked his pen harder as Clarke had the audacity to wink at the camera before Emori and Murphy started to tear into him. Kane faltered for a moment before picking up again when Clarke answered their (what Bellamy thought was daunting) questions.

“Take marriage for instance, it’s about social pressure, status and sex. If it weren’t for these three things, men and women wouldn’t even speak,” Clarke said, a fake smile on her face.

“Oh dear, sounds to me like no one’s ever loved you and you’re taking that out on the female population.” Bellamy couldn’t help but laugh at Emori, leaning back in his seat as he bragged to Kane, who just smiled pleasantly back at him.

“Well, while we’re making these observations, Emori, you two project this image of the perfect couple, when it’s clearly a lie,” Clarke replied.

“Excuse me?” Emori demanded

“What?!” Bellamy almost jumped over his desk, demanding that they break for commercial. Clarke Griffin was going to make him lose everything, he’d lose Emori and then Murphy would go with her, then he’d be fired and he wouldn’t be able to afford his apartment and he would literally live on the street. This is what Clarke had led him to.

“Marcus said to keep rolling, no matter what.” Bellamy wheeled on his boss. Ideas of how to murder the man flooding his mind, shooting him, castrating him or maybe just strangling him with his bare hands…

“This is my show,” he barely had time to growl at them before Clarke was speaking again.

“Come on, Murphy. I watched your show for years. You used to be this cool, confident cat. What the hell happened to you?” Marcus was smiling again, and Bellamy reconsidered his murder again. “And you, Emori. I mean, this one’s no dumb sheila. She knew the only way she was getting off the weekend shift was by hooking up with you.”

Bellamy could see both of them having a realisation, though what he couldn’t say. He longed for nothing more than to leap across the desk and cut to commercial, hand Marcus his resignation and go off to some other news group in the area.

“Then, lo and behold, she became more popular than you did. Ended up with twice your salary.”

Bellamy got up and started pacing, praying that Emori would take him down.

“Hold on. I am very proud of my wife’s success.”

“Yeah right. You hate her success. You feel emasculated by her. And that screws with your head. Which, in turn, screws with your manhood.”

Bellamy’s heart sank for a moment, before it rallied behind Emori, hoping that she wouldn’t let him down.

“My point, Emori, is that your husband hasn’t had sex with you in, I’m gonna say what, three months?”

“Griffin, that is not my fault,” Murphy tried to interject.

“I know,” Clarke placated Murphy, an arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“I mean come on.”

“I know, I know. It’s her fault.” She gestured towards Emori.

“Why is it my fault? What am I supposed to do? Say no to the money so he can get an erection?” Emori said, giving Clarke an incredulous look.

Bellamy turned to Marcus, but he just shrugged it off… Bellamy would like to see how to shrugged off… no, no violence at work.

“I agree,” Clarke replied to Emori.

“Thank you.”

“You’ve financially emasculated your husband to such a point that he’s afraid to want you. I mean, sure, you could dump his ass, but sweetie, have you seen the eligible men in Sacramento? Oh, God. It’s slim pickings out there for a woman in her 40s, I can tell you.”

Bellamy turned to Marcus again. “She just talked about her age. She’s gonna kill me.” All Marcus fucking Kane could do was to shrug… again.

“You ain’t gonna do any better than Murphy. You just have to let him be a man.”

“You have to let me be a man.”

“I have tried,” Emori muttered, more to herself than the others.

“Simple as that. Now you, Frowny McFlaccid, come on.”

“I’m not frowny,” Murphy stated with a frown.

“Yes, you are. Move in here and give this beautiful woman a kiss.”

“God, this is ridiculous!” Emori blustered.

“McFlaccid? Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes! Kiss her.”

“No, no, no, they’re not gonna—” Miller grimaced beside him.

“Give it to her, right in front of me.”

“Let me. Goddamn it, Emori, let me be a man.”

Then they kissed. They actually kissed… on live television. And not one of those romantic end of the movie kisses either.

“No!” half the editing room cried.

“America doesn’t want to see this!” Bellamy yelled at Marcus.

“And that my friends, is the ugly truth.”

…

Bellamy stared up at the roof, trying to comprehend his day. Just last night he’d been contemplating how he could get better ratings on his show and how horribly his date with Roma had gone. That was beyond simple compared to now, he’d been officially introduced to Clarke Griffin, the idiot who now had a prime spot on his show. He’d also met Gina, his new, attractive neighbour who happened to adore his cat Persephone, and was a doctor!! Bellamy normally tried not to judge people based on their occupation, but there was something so attractive about a doctor.

Clarke Griffin, alternatively, was not attractive to him at all… he hated everything about her, that stupid cocky smile. He absolutely hated her blonde hair and the way she flicked it over her shoulder, he hated how she delicately licked her lips and would then bite into her full lower lip. He hated a lot of things about Clarke, some of them were rational and some of them definitely not.

Miller’s voice echoed around, telling him all the information that he’d found on Clarke Griffin.

“She moved here from Australia when she was 10, pitched 2 consecutive Little League Championships. Cute. Voted “Most Likely to Get Slapped” in her senior yearbook. Three years at San José State, salesperson of the Year at Dobson Medical in ’14. Once arrested for urinating out of a moving vehicle – That is actual incredibly challenging. Never married, hates asparagus.”

Kane had stood beside him and smiled, before Miller had swung the door shut again, leaving Bellamy to stew in his darkness.

…

He must have been crazy. Absolutely bonkers. Stark raving mad.

What other reason was there for accepting Clarke Fucking Griffin’s help? In getting a date no less? He could get dates, he’d been on so many dates before.

Clarke dragged him into so many clothing stores, always with a disparaging remark about his choice of clothing.

“We have to change your look.”

“What’s wrong with my look?”

“Bellamy, you’re a hot guy, but you’re completely inaccessible. You’re all about comfort and efficiency.”

“What wrong with that?”

“Nothing, except no one wants to fuck it.”

Bellamy had been made to buy a whole new wardrobe, from his shoes, to boxer briefs and a blazer. He’d been made to buy 10 different button down shirts, and taught how to wear them (collar not done up and sleeves rolled up). Apparently everything he thought he knew about fashion was wrong. Then Clarke had discovered he owned knitted vests and just about laughed him out of the store.

He had received one good comment out of the whole lot though, they’d been looking at jeans when Clarke had told him, “Jeans are all about the curvature of the ass, you’ve got the raw materials. Now all you need is the proper presentation.”

He’d thought they were done after that, that there was nothing more that they could do… then she’d dragged him to a hairdresser…

He hardly ever wore his hair without the gel in it, he’d had told one too many times that his unruly hair would either have to behave or be removed, so the gel had stuck around, no matter how much he hated using it.

He would have been tempted to just ignore Clarke’s advice when it came to his hair, especially after her comment about using it to drag him closer while he was eating someone else. (He definitely didn’t imagine eating her out, on his belly and her thighs over his shoulders.) But then she did a double take as Bellamy’s hair curled around his ears, even he saw her stumble over her words when the hairdresser blew his hair dry. From that moment, he knew he was keeping his hair loose forever.

…

His arms are around her waist, his nose buried in her hair and joy bursting out of his heart; he’d had a successful date with Gina, and Clarke had actually been helpful.

He pulled her in tighter, while trying not to inhale too much of her perfume. He didn’t know why, but the idea of having her scent was too much.

…

“So thanks for coming tonight. To dinner,” Clarke explained, causing Bellamy to let out a fake laugh, trying to cover his embarrassment. How else was he meant to feel? The single most humiliating moment of his life, while sitting right next to Clarke Griffin, who was just a flat out an embarrassment to all humanity… ok, that was a step too far, she was pretty bad, but she wasn’t the worst person imaginable.

Bellamy looked back over towards Gina, who was still chatting with Kane.

“She likes you, by the way. Gina. I can tell.” She sounded so blasé about it but Bellamy’s heart raced a little faster at it.

“Really?” He tried not to sound too invested in it, but couldn’t help himself.

“We ready to go?” Gina’s hand was soft on his shoulder and a gentle curve to her lips.

“I know Bellamy is.” Clarke’s smirked (though if Bellamy had looked closer he would have noticed how hollow it was.)

Bellamy could feel her eyes on him as he walked away, his hand low on Gina’s waist, soft pleasantries falling from his lips.

…

Bellamy felt her eyes on him at the strangest of times, like when he was ordering the bouquet for Gina over the phone, or when he asked advice on what kind of date they should go on for next weekend. Other times too, like when he was working on ideas in his office, or prepping with Monty and Jasper. Whenever he caught her at it, for half a second she had this intense expression on her face, like she was trying to figure something out (trying to figure him out).

…

Bellamy stared at the screen as Clarke charmed the pants off the host, her wit was actually working for her. He couldn’t help sigh in relief, as the crowd laughed, too. He tried not think about Gina and the beautiful house she had booked for them in Lake Tahoe, instead trying to focus on Clarke and her nail biting interview. He still had trouble believing that her stupid agent had booked without even consulting him.

The next question obviously threw Clarke, they could all see it on her face, there was a long beat of silence where Clarke was trying to respond but just couldn’t. Bellamy watched as Clarke covered her lapse with humour, and wondered how many times she’d done that in the past.

…

Bellamy felt like he was burning in his skin, his lips felt dry, but all he could think about was Clarke. The way her hair glinted in the lights as she twirled away from him and then back into his arms. The sound of her laugh, clear and vibrant over the music. The smell of her perfume, light and floral, as his hands slid down her body. And God, just the feel of her, her skin just as hot as his, her soft curves and the gentle lines she was made up of. He’d been so close to kissing her, his lips only millimeters from hers. It was too much.

He stared at her swaying hips as they traversed the stairs to their separate rooms. He tried very hard not to think about his hands running over them or how they’d feel flush against his own. But he was truly fighting a losing battle.

Just as he was wondering what her hips would feel like if he bent her over his kitchen table, she spoke. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Yeah,” he coughed, “me too.” He tried to focus on her next words, and not on the curve of her waist, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“So the car is gonna pick us up downstairs tomorrow at 8.”

“Yeah, did you want me to call you?”

“No, I’ll get a wakeup call.”

“Smart!”

“Yeah.”

They both came to a stop as they reached the next landing. Bellamy could only stare at her lips and wonder if they tasted of the mojito from earlier.

“This is my stop,” Clarke said with a smile.

“Oh, right. So, goodnight?” He meant it to come out as a statement, but it clearly didn’t.

“Goodnight.” They embraced, Bellamy tucked his head into her neck and caught another waft of her perfume. And hoped it would permanently stain his brain. (He also, clearly shouldn’t drink mojito’s because they made him loopy.)

They came apart, smiles pulling at each of their lips.

“See you tomorrow,”

“Eight o’clock,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, eight o’clock.”

She came in for another hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they went. They pulled back again. Bellamy stared down at her lips, wondering for the umpteenth time what they would taste like.

He wanted to know.

Their lips slid across one another, gliding smoothly over her lipstick. He could taste it, he had no idea what it tasted like but he was quickly becoming addicted to it. Her tongue traced the seam of his mouth, at the feel of it, Bellamy lost control.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, with his other cupping the back of her head as he moved her back to the wall behind them.

He tried not to get lost in the feel or taste of her, but her mouth opened under his and he was gone. All of a sudden he wanted to be impossibly close to her, but a little part of him knew he’d wanted it the entire time.

Bellamy moved his sweaty hands to shuck up her dress, pressing his hips forward into her. His nose bumping into hers as he repositioned. His eyes fluttered open as her thumb stroked his cheekbones, he saw her normally bright, cheeky blue eyes almost disappear through the lust and heat they were both feeling.

That heat that coiled low in his belly, still burning along his nerves.

They came apart for a breath and Bellamy realised what he was doing. He was kissing Clarke Griffin, and oh God, what about Gina...

“I’m, ah, gonna go to bed,” he pulled back, with a sobering breath.

“Ok, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She blinked, before pressing another quick kiss to his lips. Readjusting her dress as she wandered out of the stairwell.

…

Bellamy raced after her, he wasn’t even entirely sure this was real life. First Gina had shown up and then just before he could ask her to leave, Clarke had knocked on his door. He heard her shaky excuse and now he was running after her, trying to explain.

“Clarke, wait. She came to surprise me.” She spun back to face him, her face a canvas for her emotions; disappointment, betrayal.

“Hey, how convenient,” she bit out.

“No, I- I thought it was you at the door,” he said so quietly, he barely heard himself.

“Well, I guess we’re all interchangeable. I taught you well. Hey, maybe you could even host the show.” Bellamy almost gave up, he half wanted to just shrug it off and move on but he had to know.

“Tell me what happened in the elevator. Should I tell Gina to go?”

“No. No, why pull up anchor now? I mean, you worked damn hard to get her here.” Clarke went for another stab.

“And that’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” She sounded … he didn’t know the word for it. It was heartbroken, but with an angry tone to it. Like she knew she was hurting him, but doing it on purpose, because he had hurt her.

“The truth is ugly, isn’t it?” He tried to cover his own emotional response.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’ll see you.”

…

But they didn’t see each other. The moment he walked into work, he was confronted by Kane and the shitshow just continued from there. Clarke had left to go to one of their local competitors.

He curled around Persephone, trying to block out his own thoughts. He didn’t want to think about any of it. Not about Gina’s face when he confessed everything, nor about the way she’d quickly packed her bag. He bit his tongue when he thought about Clarke.

He made himself get up, away from his soft bed and instead went for a run.

...

Bellamy couldn’t believe he was here. He wasn’t even meant to be there, Miller was meant to run the off site crew. Then again, it was their first session with Dax, their new idiot commentator who had absolutely blown it, so much so, that he’d pushed the idiot out of the way and climbed in the hot air balloon himself. He didn’t think his piece had been too bad, especially since it was essentially why he’d chosen to report on the Hot Air Balloon Festival, people were full of hot air.

Only Clarke had climbed into the balloon with him. And then, well then shit had hit the fan.

“God, I hate you so much, I just swore on live television.” He clung to the pole of balloon.

“No, you hate yourself for being so shallow,” she bit back. She always bit back.

“Off we go,” the operator chimed.

“Where are we going?” Bellamy demanded, looking out and seeing that the ground disappearing beneath them.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Clarke tried to climb out, but he grabbed her shirt and pulled her back in.

“Well, that’s a shocker, you’re bailing.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that.” The operator tried stop them.

“What are you doing? God, what is wrong with you?” Bellamy berated her.

“So who wants champagne?” the operator tried to sound bright and chipper but just came off as annoying.

“Oh, I know. I got a great idea. Why don’t we pass the time with you telling me how much fun you and Gina had having sex in Los Angeles?”

“I broke up with Gina in Los Angeles, you jackass.” He bit back his tongue, wanting to say more.

“What?”

“Oh yeah. That’s got your interest. Well, if you think we’re gonna finish what we started in LA, you’re out of your mind. You lost your chance.” He turned and looked out over the moving landscape of balloons and river.

“Oh, come on. I never had a chance with you.”

The operator started talking again.

“Please stop talking.” Bellamy glared at the man. “You’re right. I had a momentary lapse in judgement when I thought you were more than you are, but you aren’t. Clearly.”

“Oh yeah? What does that mean?”

“‘I’m Clarke Griffin, I like girls in Jell-o. I like to fuck like a monkey. Don’t fall in love, it’s scary,’” Bellamy mocked her.

“Yeah, it is scary. It’s terrifying. Especially when I’m in love with a psycho like you.” A psycho? He was not a psycho.

“I am not a psycho.”

“I just told you that I loved you and all you heard was ‘psycho’. You’re the definition of neurotic.” Now he was neurotic? Clearly she was the crazy one.

“No. The definition of neurotic is a person who suffers from anxiety, obsessive thoughts, compulsive acts and physical ailments without any objective evidence of-”

“Shut up. Yet again, I just told you I’m in love with you, and you’re standing here giving me a vocabulary lesson,” she interrupted him and only then did he really hear her words… she loved him? When did that… How did that...

“You’re in love with me. Why?”

“Beats the shit out of me, but I am.” Clarke shrugged, before moving towards him for a kiss. Bellamy had an idle moment to wonder whether it would be as good as their first.

(And it was better.)

**Author's Note:**

> would love any feedback you guys have


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